Work in Progress

Chapter 1

Lesson 1: Beware a bargain that looks too good to be true. Some deals are made by the devil.

Reading List: Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson (in progress)

Bridget Jones Tally:

borders crossed—5

dollhouse-size bags of pretzel mix ingested—9

hours slept—1 and a half

frayed nerves—7 trillion

I could never have imagined that I would be so happy to see the inside of Edinburgh Airport. Surprisingly small and unmemorable,

to me it was heaven: a beautiful salvation after my quick, seven-hour hop over the pond had become a thirty-six-hour circle

of hell that would have chilled even Dante to the marrow. I have a hazy memory of trying to suffocate myself in the velour

depths of my travel pillow, but I was too tired to die, and gave up.

When finally I arrived in the UK, I was dangerously underslept and underfed, and my entire body was one giant cramp. Only

a maniac could have been happy as they trudged off the plane, wove through endless yellowed hallways, and got at the back

of a line so long it looked like James McAvoy was giving away free hugs at the Scottish border. But to my surprise, I found

I had a smile on my face.

An unfamiliar ember of joy sparked and began to warm my chest. I zeroed in on it and tried to let all the pains and miseries of the past day and a half fall away. I put an upbeat song on my headphones and coaxed my smile to grow. Sometimes happiness needed to be fought for. That’s why I was here, and I was ready for my adventure to begin.

While I waited in the customs line, I took the opportunity to dig out my notebook and make a list. Because lists make everything

better.

Wonderful British Things I’m Finally About to Experience IRL:

Crooked thatched cottages with curls of smoke rising from the chimney

Cobbled streets with painted shop fronts

Crispy fish and salty chips wrapped in paper

Cozy old pubs with open fires

Mossy stone walls that you can run your hand across as you set out for a chilly country walk

Stately English lawns where I can imagine Mr. Darcy on a horse with the wind in his hair

Rugged Scottish vistas where I can imagine Jamie Fraser on a mountain with the wind in his kilt

The accents—every single one of the confusing, sexy, adorable accents

Castles

Actual freaking castles!

Red phone boxes

Double-decker buses

The word loo

A stern lady stamped my passport, and the sound of it sent a little thrill to my stomach. This trip was going to be life-changing.

I just knew it. Every damn minute of it was going to be spectacular!

That is until almost immediately after stepping on British soil, when disaster struck.

My suitcase was missing. While others grabbed their bags off the carousel and skipped away arm in arm, I stood looking at

the clock, trying to hold out hope as the last few bags squeaked past, inch by excruciating inch. An eternity later when the

empty carousel finally shuddered to a stop, so did my desperate little heart.

This was going to be bad. I just knew it. And I really needed this trip to be perfect. I needed it so badly. My feet hardly

left the linoleum as I dragged my body toward the customer service desk, bowed and beaten. Over my earbuds, the first few

miserable strums of R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” came up in the shuffle to provide the soundtrack.

Touché, universe. Touché.

“Good morning, madam. Thank you for flying with Blue Skies. How can I help you?”

I stood for a weighted moment and just stared at the woman’s candied smile, trying to hold it together.

“Hello. It has... not been a very good morning, actually. My flight got canceled, and I was...”— tortured, stripped of my dignity, had my soul ripped very slowly from my body, leaving only the dried, lifeless husk you see

before you —“very much delayed. I have a tour that’s leaving in an hour and a half from the city center, and my luggage hasn’t arrived.

Please. Please tell me where it is.”

The woman was poised, pink, tidily attired, and perfectly coiffed. At that moment, she was my antithesis in every way. Her

lips tightened before she opened them a crack to push out a little sigh.

She scrunched her nose. “An hour and a half is a bit tight, isn’t it? It’s always best to plan for a little extra time when

traveling.”

“But I was supposed to arrive yester—”

“Do you have your luggage tag, madam?”

For a blessed moment I imagined grabbing her by the striped lapels and shaking her bodily until her teeth clacked. Instead, I produced the luggage tag. The woman took it, and then proceeded to click endlessly at the keyboard until the end of time. Can she actually be typing, or is this just for effect? I couldn’t be sure, but every tap chiseled at my raw nerve endings.

“So... it looks like you traveled from Washington, DC, to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Nashville, Nashville to Reykjavík, Reykjavík

to London, and London to Edinburgh.”

I closed my eyes, wincing, each stop like the lash of a whip.

“I did, God help me.”

“Unfortunately, it looks like there was some problem with your luggage between Reykjavík and your final destination.” My spine

drooped, but she went on to deliver the death blow. “Yes. It appears to have been crushed.”

“ Crushed ?”

“Correct, madam. That’s what it says here. Crushed.”

“Crushed? What do you mean, crushed ? How did this happen?”

She finally stopped tapping and met my eyes, unblinking—the look of a cat who is about to push your favorite mug off the table.

“I really couldn’t tell you, madam. We didn’t have video surveillance on your particular bag as it traveled across four countries.”

“But it was never supposed to travel across four countries. I booked a direct—”

“I do have some good news for you. It has arrived to Edinburgh, and we have taped and wrapped it to keep your belongings safely

inside, free of charge. It’ll be waiting for you just here in the back.”

“Taped? There must be some mistake. My suitcase is unbreakable. It’s polycarbonate. I bought it from Brookstone. It’s called

Air Armor because it’s so strong.”

She gave me a pitying look. “They’ll say anything to make a sale these days, won’t they?”

I considered making a flamethrower with a lighter and hairspray, and then remembered that those items were being held hostage in my suitcase. I turned away to collect myself. It could be worse, right? At least they have my luggage here in Edinburgh, and my undies aren’t already being tried on for

size by a goatherd in Kazakhstan. I could work with this! I just needed to hurry.

“Alright. Can I have what’s left of my bag, please? If I leave now, I can just about make it to my tour bus.”

“Of course. But you’ll have to wait for Keith to bring it round for you, and he’s on his break.”

I checked my phone—6:55 a.m. The tour would leave at 8:00, and here I was, being toyed with by this hot pink sadist. If the

past two days had been hell, then this woman was hell’s gatekeeper, barring my exit.

I turned around and forced my face into outward calm.

“Is my suitcase in that room just behind you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I go get it myself?”

“Well, we can’t let just anyone wander about picking through people’s luggage, now can we.”

I looked down at her name badge and made an appeal to her humanity. “Please, Muriel. This trip is very important to me. I’ve

been having a...” My voice threatened to crack. I swallowed hard and tried again. “A really hard week. Could you please grab my suitcase and bring it out for me? I would be so grateful.”

“I couldn’t possibly. That’s Keith’s job.” She splayed her two hands and held them out in front of me to show off her pink

manicure. “And I just got these done yesterday.” She gave me a little wink.

She had no humanity.

I used to be great at handling difficult people, but I’d since discovered that when you’re already teetering on the edge of

a precipice, all it takes is one tiny nudge to push you over the edge. I felt tears prickle. Shit .

I breathed deeply for a few seconds and tried to calm myself down the best way I knew how: baked goods. That’s right, Alice, there are real British scones waiting for you out there, and all you have to do is get past Waterboard

Barbie.

“Right. Okay then. Who else can I speak to who could get my suitcase while Keith is on break?”

She made a little pout and then checked her watch with the heavy sigh of a woman who is being forced to do her job. “I suppose

I could make a few phone calls.”

“Thank you.”

It was 7:10. I had fifty minutes to get my bag, make my way into Edinburgh city center, and find the meeting location for

the tour. While she picked up her phone, I tried to connect mine to the Wi-Fi so that I could send an email to the tour company

and beg them to wait.

Suddenly someone shoved past me hard enough that it sent my phone clattering to the floor.

“Sorry. I need help here, please.” A man pushed in front of me at the counter.

Pushed.

In front of me.

At the counter.

“Excuse me!” I grabbed my phone. It was still in one piece—thank God. I moved past him and retook my place, my shoulder staking

my claim as first in line. “Look. I’m sorry but she’s busy helping me right now. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”

He ignored me completely. He stretched past and attempted to get the gatekeeper’s attention, his Scottish voice low as he

leaned in. He didn’t even spare me a glance while our elbows jostled for counter space.

“Excuse me? Can you help me please?”

To my annoyance, a blush warmed the gatekeeper’s cheeks as she nodded and held up a just one second finger.

“Hey. I’m in a huge hurry. She’s trying to get my suitcase, and then you can—”

“Shh.”

He shushed me. The man actually shushed me. The clipped, gusty sound of it was the bellows to the burning fire in my belly.

I wasn’t sad anymore. I was angry. It was the wrong day to mess with me. This egomaniac needed someone to cut him back down

to size. And guess what, buddy, that somebody is me!

I spun around, squeezed between him and the counter, and looked him full in the face, nothing more than an inch of crackling

hatred between us.

“Excuse me .” I was quiet but dangerous with a face like thunder. “It cannot have escaped even your attention that this woman is clearly busy helping someone else. Now, you can get behind me and form an orderly line and wait

your turn as you, no doubt, learned to do in kindergarten. What you do not want to do is continue pushing me around. Would you like to know why? I’ll tell you why. Because, my indestructible three-hundred-dollar

suitcase has apparently been crushed beyond recognition. My relaxing, boozy, transatlantic flight turned into a thirty-six-hour

shitshow made of nightmares. I had to spend the night in the Nashville Airport. Nashville! Have you ever been to the Nashville

Airport? This woman is trying to retrieve my bag which I have been informed has had to be taped together to keep its contents from spilling out like a gutted animal. And now I have got to get to Edinburgh city center

in less than an hour, or I’ll be stranded and alone in a strange country. So in case it still isn’t clear to you, let me spell

this out. You will move back, keep your damn shoulders to yourself, and remember your manners, or I will be happy to give

you a crash course.”

I am a force to be reckoned with. I am a dragon woman breathing fire. He will cower before me. He will snivel, and apologize, and scuttle away like the rat he is.

But he did none of those things. Instead he continued to act as if I didn’t exist, hurriedly pressed some buttons on his phone,

and pushed it to his ear as he moved around me back to the counter.

I grabbed his shoulder, prepared to catch him in a neck hold and slam us both into the ground, Hulk Hogan–style. But we were

interrupted when a large man emerged from the door behind the gatekeeper. He was carrying a parcel—a minifridge, a body, I

couldn’t be sure. It was bandaged in copious layers of plastic wrap and a thick layer of bright yellow police tape for good

measure. A little corner of silver poked through the wrapping and glimmered at me—it was my Air Armor.

The man laid it gingerly on the counter and backed away with his hands outstretched, lest it somehow manage to break free

from its bindings and bury us all in an avalanche of socks and bras. The gatekeeper put the phone down with a snap.

“There... now that wasn’t worth getting upset over, was it?”

This thing was my suitcase? How was I going to travel with this for the next three weeks? Before I could even open my mouth to wail,

or protest, or even just sit there with my mouth ajar—all things that I had earned the right to do—the flaming hemorrhoid

next to me made another bid for attention.

“Hi. Sorry. I am here to pick up a passenger on the 433 from Cardiff, and I can’t find her anywhere. It landed nearly an hour

ago. She’s not answering her phone. She’s ninety-eight years old, and I’m really starting to worry.”

“Oh.” Her eyes grew big and doe-like. “Of course, sir, I can understand your concern. If you just give me some information,

I will do a bit of research for you here to make sure that she arrived. I’m sure we’ll find her safe and sound.”

Well, that put me in my place a little bit. I hoped that the old lady was alright, but people got turned around in airports all the time, didn’t they? Surely a brief search would find her at the back corner of the bookstore, squinting over the large-print copies of Barbara Cartland.

I wrapped my arms around my suitcase and was preparing to lift it down when the gatekeeper’s claw shot out and dug pink talons

into its wrapping.

“Before I can give this back into your custody, I’ll need to go over some things with you, get you to sign some paperwork,

and inform you of the protocol for requesting compensation, should you find that there has been any damage to your luggage

or its contents. But first I must see to this gentleman and his emergency.”

“I appreciate that,” he said.

Her face changed entirely as she turned to him, batting false eyelashes and flashing a row of dazzling teeth. Aren’t the British famous for their hideous teeth? Her voice came out all serious and throaty. “I’ll do everything I can for you.”

Good God, I most certainly do not have time for this!

“I’m sorry, and I hope you find your friend soon, I really do,” I said without sparing him a glance. “But my suitcase is right

here. I need to get to Edinburgh urgently. Surely you can send another staff member to help this... person.” I refused

to say gentleman — Take that! “While you please give me my luggage, and give me the forms I need to fill out, so that I can get the hell out of here.”

She pouted. “Unfortunately, there is only one of me. We will have to deal with issues one at a time.”

“Alright. Look. I’m taking my suitcase and I’m leaving. I’ll email to sort out the paperwork later.”

The Scottish scrotum turned to me then, finally looking me in the face for the first time. He paused for dramatic effect, trying to zap me into oblivion with his ice-blue laser eyes. Then he stared me down, from my airplane-bedhead mess of hair to my boots. I fought the urge to punch him in the throat.

“Listen, you have obviously had a very bad day. I’m sorry if your luggage went missing, but I am missing a human being . An elderly woman. This could be serious, so I’ll thank you to just keep it together a moment longer, and schedule your tantrum

for after we’ve located her.”

The look on his face, the tightened jaw, the narrowed eyes, told me just what he thought of me. I wanted to smush it with

a steamroller.

A smug little smirk from the gatekeeper was the very last straw.

I leaned closer, took out my finger, and jabbed it into the center of his chest. “No. You listen!” But before I could let loose a deluge of expletives, a sound from behind made us all turn.

“Yoo-hoo!” An ancient woman about half my height was holding a hanky aloft and waving it to and fro. “Yoo-hoo, Robbie dear!”

His face crumpled in relief. He sidestepped my finger, caught midpoke, and ran to her. She had a wild dandelion fluff of hair,

and she hobbled with the help of a cane with four sturdy little feet. Next to her trotted a small dog in a bow tie and vest,

nails tapping on the shiny floor as it ran to sniff every passerby without exception.

“Oh, Doris. Thank God! You had me worried sick, you wee troublemaker.”

“Oh, I am sorry if you were looking for me. But you see, I had a spot of indigestion. I’ve been visiting the lavatory since

I got in. Plane food—you know how it is, don’t you, dear?”

He laughed and gave her a hug—apparently his hideous behavior, my poking finger, and our shouting match completely forgotten.

Taking her handbag from her shoulder and the roller bag from her hand, he put her arm firmly in his and began to lead her

out.

“We’ve got to get our skates on, love, or we’ll have everyone waiting on us.” The little dog with the vest jumped up and pawed at his shins. “Yes, hello to you too, Percy. How could I forget?” He bent down and scratched him behind the ears.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. This little old lady and her graying terrier were so adorable they could have stepped

right out of Doc Martin’s waiting room. I was glad that they were safe and sound and on their way. I mean, she waved her hanky

in the air—no one has done that since the Titanic left the dock in 1912. As I watched the three of them leave together, the ice in my heart thawed a degree or two. If this

lady had been my friend and I couldn’t find her, I would have been frantic too. I almost began to forgive the guy for being

an abominable, world-class douchebag. Almost...

Until he turned around and did the unforgivable.

“Okay, now you can go ahead and treat yourself to a little tantrum.” He winked at me, shot me a one-sided grin, and then disappeared

through the glass doors.

My blood boiled into hard candy.